Fixie Don’t Care

Awesome.  Taken from Craigslist, this guy has as much fixie hate as he has creativity.

Failed hipster – fixie must go – $1100 (SLO)

I tried so hard. I dated a girl from Portland. I criticized cheese. I applied the term artisanal to every inanimate object that went in or on my body. I burned and singed my forearms just to make it look like I was going to culinary school. I grew Carol Brady hair. I got itchy from the finest flannel and I cut off circulation from the waist down with jeans that made my ass look like an elevator button…
And I rode a fixie. No more. It’s all gotta go.
The hair, the macrame, the texting overages, the Netflix and Hulu Plus. The record collection (have you ever tried to box up and move an effin stack of LPs?!) and the bike. Pictured below is the bike. It’s beautiful. It’s got red rims. Red chain. Red tires. Red handlebars shaped like devil horns – because it’s the devil.

fixiedontcare 300x224 Fixie Dont Care

The guys at the hipster store don’t tell you fixes don’t stop. So I will. Fixies don’t stop. Stop sign? Fixie don’t care. Car coming turning in front of you at a three-way stop? Fixie laugh. Want Chipotle? Nope. Fixie want protein powder/beet/purple carrot/bee pollen juice and won’t stop till he gets it. Fixie has a mind of his own.

Yesterday, Fixie got pulled over twice by SLO PD in three hours. In six months time, Fixie collected more tickets than a scalper for a Radiohead show at Hollywood Bowl.

I’m selling this badboy and tipping the dregs of my last PBR tall boy in his memory.

The (Devil) Fixie:
Cinelli Gazzetta Frame (2011)
Crane Creek and Origin 8 components

$1,100 ($1,600 new)

Well played sir, and it proves how silly a fixie really is.
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Cyclops Turbo Trainer: Utter Bastard Machine

This guy on ebay UK not only has a hell of a sense of humor, but he has a serious distaste for his CycleOps Wind Trainer:

I’m selling this bastard thing because i HATE it.  

I’m sure there are people out there who like or even have a perverse love affair with their turbo trainer. It might even attract some sort of love/hate duality. I know for a fact that some people, many of them ostensibly sane with some hideously rapid times to their name, view the turbo as the essential piece of training equipment. Personally, i’d rather rip my face off and dive into a bath of saline solution than use this horrible piece of apparatus. It’s utterly soul-destroying and mind-numbing, which is a pretty vicious combination.

The straw that broke the camel’s back:

I thought i might do a ‘quick’ turbo session this evening. The reason being that the weather is pretty terrible and i hadn’t got the time to head down to the lake for the first race of the season. By the time i’d sorted out the rear turbo wheel by putting a tyre on and then pinching an inner tube, then changing the tyre and putting a new tube in, switching the cassette and setting up the bike and then setting up the computer with ‘The Flying Scotsman’ on the iplayer with headphones and subtitles (because of fearsome noise) to alleviate the dreadful and crushing ennui of it all and then got changed and put some water within reach and found my sweaty turbo towel that hasn’t been washed since the last time i dared to ride the bastard (turbo, not turbo towel) and wrestled with the quick release mechanism and then adjusted the height with a series of books under the front wheel by getting on and off about four times then adjusting the saddle height then going back and adjusting the resistance about 6 times with the manual turny thing, i’d wasted about 55 minutes. This was about as long as i intended to spend on the bastard piece of shit.

I managed about 11 minutes at about 70% of max before two things happened. The iplayer began to freeze and unfreeze, robbing me of the only thing that helped me think that i wasn’t actually on the turbo, and then without warning the back wheel leapt out of the dropout clasps and i had to do an emergency unclip and braking manouevre ON THE GODDAMNED TURBO just to stay alive. i suddenly lurched towards the computer where Graeme Obree was riding off the front of some sort of Tour of the Scottish Prettylands in the early part of the film and very nearly ended up joining the crazed circular-breathing scotsman on the silver screen.

If you’re made of far stronger stuff than I am, and I’m thinking Ivan Drago in Rocky 4 when he kills Apollo Creed to death – that sort of stronger stuff – and think you can handle the savage bestiality of the CYCLOPS WIND TURBO then please, please, please buy this REPULSIVE ITEM. 

 

Awesome.  Just plain awesome.  Basically, this sums up how I feel about my trainer.

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Facepalm Files: The Defiled Dean

StarTrekFacePalm Facepalm Files: The Defiled DeanI’m all for self expression, and I’m all for people riding their bikes.  If people need some kind of eccentric bike to motivate them to get out and pedal, then good for them.

Sometimes though, the power of the internet drops something into our lap that defies convention and circumvents all common sense.

The “FacePalm Files” chronicles these tales.

Continue reading “Facepalm Files: The Defiled Dean” »

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Facepalm Files: The Sad Scott

StarTrekFacePalm Facepalm Files: The Sad ScottI’m all for self expression, and I’m all for people riding their bikes.  If people need some kind of eccentric bike to motivate them to get out and pedal, then good for them.

Sometimes though, the power of the internet drops something into our lap that defies convention and circumvents all common sense.

The “FacePalm Files” chronicles these tales.

Continue reading “Facepalm Files: The Sad Scott” »

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